


Coming Home

by esteefee



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: S2E10 Ki'ilua, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to 2.10.  Danny and Steve are finally home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

They were home finally, at last, home in Hawaii, on Oahu, in Steve's house, lying on Steve's bed, and yet Danny couldn't feel it in his skin.

There were rough patches on Steve's chest and abdomen, scabbed over now, but too symmetrical to be scrapes from a fall or what have you. Danny avoided them carefully, tried not to ask with hands or eyes or mouth, but he knew the question was there in the heavy silence between them as he tried to find a safe place to touch somewhere on Steve's battered and bandaged body.

He knew he was being ridiculous. Steve was going to be fine. He just needed to heal up. And not be an idiot again, ever, and think he could take on North Korea all on his lonesome, or Wo Fat for that matter, not that Steve knew that was the situation he was stepping into.

Steve sucked in his breath, and Danny realized he was squeezing his arm a little too hard. Steve had complained his arms were a problem, saying he could barely lift them. Danny'd told him he could hold off on the beach volleyball tournaments.

"Sorry," Danny said, and leaned over to brush his lips over the fingermarks, fading fast against the tanned skin.

"I thought the plan was sex, not Shiatsu," Steve said, his voice a harsh croak that made Danny wince. He knew why Steve's voice was destroyed, he just didn't want to think about it particularly, why Steve's vocal chords weren't up to talking much, because that was a rabbit hole of rage that Danny would lose himself down, never to return.

"Maybe we're jumping the gun a little, babe," Danny said, because it seemed like everywhere he looked there was a bruise or a cut or a scrape or one of those _burns_ , that's what they were, burns, and Danny squeezed his eyes closed and pressed his lips against the tough, unmarked skin of Steve's palm.

"Danny, Danny," Steve whispered, his voice barely a hiss of sound, and then Danny felt himself being covered, being smothered by Steve's warm weight, skin and muscle and bone, and this was the feeling he'd been missing. This was coming home. "You're shaking," Steve said. "C'mon."

Steve kissed him, and Danny let him in, grateful, so grateful, until he felt the crust of a scab on Steve's lip biting against his own, and he pulled away with a moan.

"No, no, no, Steve," Danny said, and Steve pressed his hands on either side of Danny's face and stared him down.

"Hey. Cut it out." But he looked worried, and his fingers moved restlessly in Danny's hair.

"You don't get it. You just don't get it."

"What don't I get?" Steve swallowed and licked his lips, then kissed him again. "Danny."

Danny closed his eyes, because he couldn't see that, couldn't face that look Steve always had, like he wanted to fix things, he always wanted to fix things, especially for Danny. But Steve'd wanted to help Jenna, too, and see where that got him?

"I saw her," Danny said, forcing the words out past a bitter taste in his throat. "Lying there in chains. And I just knew we'd find you in another room. I figured Wo Fat put one right between your eyes." Danny had pictured it so very clearly, and all the grief he'd felt for Jenna had multiplied times about a thousand in that instant until he could barely breathe, couldn't move, and if Chin hadn't called him away, Danny knew he'd have stood there forever, too afraid to go looking for Steve's body.

"But he didn't," Steve said. "Because you found me. And Danny, I can't tell you what that felt like, when I opened my eyes and you were there." Steve laughed, a harsh, sandy sound. "I thought I was dreaming."

Danny couldn't help it—ignoring the bandages and bruises, he reached up and embraced Steve high around his back and held on, and Steve kissed him again then buried his face in Danny's neck, laughing again, the sound bitter and happy and relieved, all at once.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," Danny said, "I swear to high heaven, Steven." But he knew, he knew. Because Steve would do anything for family, to give them what he'd felt, opening his eyes in the back of the truck and seeing Danny there. And Danny couldn't really blame him.

As long as he always came home.


End file.
